A few days quietly went by in the ever-steady Cuban village. It was during a gleamy morning sunrise that Manolin felt on his gut the time had come, to once again, flee and voyage over water with the old man.
The boy ran up the hill empowered with excitement until he arrived at the humble shack. Santiago had woken up a little early to walk along the shore and see what gifts the tide might have brough him. He collected a few mussels from coastline rock pools and returned home for further rest. When Manolin entered, nothing but gratitude inhabited the old man as he glanced over the table, spotting hot food and coffee the boy had generously put down.
Santiago was now able to read the paper since all of his chest pains and wounds faded, leaving nothing but reminescent scars. Sleep, nourishment, and self-treatment were the righteous measures to become renewed. His welfare was still strong.
The boy asked whether there were any Dimaggio news; to which the old man replied: “Well, I for one think the last article on Joe Dimaggio confirms his conviction and fond commitment to the game. Injuries have kept on powering down his performance, but he continues to be a highly productive player. Joe has managed to prove his value by scoring outstanding numbers during the current season, despite unfavorable conditions”.
Unexpectedly at the moment, a rather distinctive twittering could be heard nearby. It turned out to be the man-of-war bird Santiago had encountered some moons ago, out on the sea.
A contempt expression subtlely formed on the old man’s semblant. After short silent listening, he claimed: “The way I see things, pirate birds are much alike to fishermen. They tiredlessly travel significant distances, employ fishing-aimed skills, and face hardship to earn meals. That’s why I’ll take this flying creature’s jolly sound as a sign of prosper fate.”
Manolin then said aloud: “In that case, let’s’ not linger on”. -“I guess you’re right, it’s fishing time at last!” the old man exclaimed with enthusiasm. The boy immediately added: “There will be no dry spell Santiago! Salao days are now asunder from us. I’ll bring my rising fortune onboard”. The old man replied: Indeed, I have confidence our dedicated work combination will make the old skiff, a lucky one”.
Dimaggio’s latest story and the seabird appearance filled the old man with inspiration to emulate suchlike tenacity, and not forsake his honorable promise.
Prior to departure, Santiago requested the boy to put away the newspaper. As Manolin approached the shelf in the corner, where he intended to leave it, the old man’s wife portrait came into vision. He stared in pondering at the tinted, melancholy-drenched photograph. The boy was daunted by its enigmatic portrayal of a vanished soul.
Manolin couldn’t resist the itch of his curiosity, and began questioning Santiago regarding his late spouse. The boy inquired about her name, aspect, character, among other various traits. He wanted to find out if a poignant case of love at first sight had occured or not.
In polite manner, all along the old man had been carefully listening, and considering appropiate answers for Manolin. -“It’s not healthy for me to immerse my senses in a nostalgic current of memories, but if it will hush your wondering, here is the best description I can confide you: My dear Elisabeth was a serenity-driven presence, a selfless companion, and warm light before my eyes, that overshadowed any trivial flaws. She was a Puerto Rican tourist I met on the beach, during one foggy afternoon. It wasn’t love at first sight, but her charming ways allured me with such lively delight, that I fell head over heels before the fog cleared out” Santiago told the boy.
Manolin, not yet out of his amusement, wanted to comment, but probably because of his age, couldn’t quite find the words. Therefore, he limited himself to ingenously nod while a candid smile seemed to leap off his face, and his prying appetite was satisfied.
At this point, Santiago and Manolin both drifted their focus back to their long awaited sailing endeavor. The old man thought it would be convenient to take the Virgin of cobre as a protection amulet, which had a romanticized meaning in his mind.
As they headed down the road towards Havana waters, they found Martin, the terrace owner, sitting on a log downhill. He was placidly looking at the waves colliding rocks in the northern seaboard.
Manolin and Santiago greeted Martin. The old man thanked him for his benevolent support. -“You’re very much welcome. Anything for the fisherman who caught the most magnificent fish this village has seen. I have true appreciation for what you do, so there’s no need to thank me. I am still bewildered by how you gained the other fishermen’s respect. Instead of using cheap back talk against their mockery, you did something undeniably admirable, thus, proving them wrong. Such exploits confirm you’re still “the champion” as the boy says. Oh, just one last thing if I may. I brought the sharp knife Manolin and I grinded in Guanabacoa”. Martin told the two pals. -“Well, much obliged!” the old man said when shaking the man’s hand for goodbye.
Once near the docks, they finally embarked with better boating gear. Santiago was quick to give a piece of advice: “Anyone who goes out too far into the sea, no matter how experienced, is almost helpless. Only composure, stone cold determination and the lord, will aid you when boating there”.
Followingly, the boy reckoned: “You speak words of wisdom; you know that, don’t you?”
Since Manolin was praising him perhaps a bit too much, the old man shared a humility reminder: “I believe it’s ironic how the sea makes us stay grounded, while being on water. I mean, its immensity brings to conscience how small we appear to be, if ever compared”.
The inscrutable forces of the ocean had not mellowed the old man, who refused to yield to age. In fact, each swift wave was like a rush of energy that caused him to slightly recall Elisabeth’s caress. It was short lived, but with a restoring touch. This thought prompted Santiago to seize his time in this world, for he knew it was ephemeral and precious.
-“When I look back, I have no repents. Nothing could have restrained me from pursuing my noble prey” the old man said in relation to his bittersweet capture, the Marlin.
Manolin and Santiago had not even noticed how time flew by. They spent hours vividly talking about fishing techniques, the boy’s family, and crystal-clear daydreams.
None of them caught anything but sea stars that day. It didn’t really matter anyhow. Their comforting company and bonding experience were much more relevant.
The sunset’s bright and intense blaze matched the old man’s eyes that never gave up. As it got darker, those shining fireballs were exposed by the evening; it was a fully stellar night. Santiago then exclaimed: “It’s hard not to be startled by the stars, if you have a vibrant beating heart like mine. Therefore, it’s a good thing we only got a hold of sea stars today; I couldn’t bear to attempt stealing one from the sky. Boy, what a pity that would be! I’m sure is a sin against Mother Nature to take away such beautiful elements from the nightly view”.
The next morning, dawn was breaking when Manolin contemplated the firmament. He tried to discern objects from all the cloudy figures his imagination pictured. “My dad told me he doesn’t like clouds all that much. They remind him how sudden life appears, goes by, and soon evaporates. In my case, I prefer to watch them, and visualize nothing more than fun things up above my head. What do you think of this Santiago?” the boy asked.
-“Hmm… I personally like to take advantage of the opportuniy, forget all hassle, projecting my dreams and desires into the clouds, so that I can see what the heart wants” the old man replied, as he rejoiced stretching his victorious arms, gaping at ease.
Manolin unwinded, beholding the stunning spectacle of a brand new day. He didn’t utter a single word, and merely started pipe-dreaming himself, with genuine faith, and longing for a better tomorrow. They spared a moment to divise a cloudy Marlin of mesmerizing grace, jumping from cloud to cloud, and extracting sweetness out of a honey dripping sun.
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